


Phoenix

by yourdykeinshiningarmor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Poetry, Remix, Wits On Tap Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourdykeinshiningarmor/pseuds/yourdykeinshiningarmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slavery AU in which Sherlock is sold to Lestrade.</p>
<p>This is a poetry remix of Dyrad's "Dust" for the Wits on Tap Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dryad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526935) by [Dryad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad). 



> For the 2016 Wits on Tap Challenge. Poetry is not my strong suit (not really even my weak suit, either) but I had a lot of fun with this. I hope y'all (especially you, Dryad) enjoy this!

**_One._ **

It certainly couldn’t be more plebeian.

The crops. The animals. The smells.

Another day in a bad situation,

(I shift in my shackles.)

Yet this stranger assures me it will be alright.

He gives his name,

(Watson, John)

Mine is given in turn,

(Lestrade, Sherlock)

Corrected, then allowed... to correct myself.

(Holmes, Sherlock)

He looks smug, seems to read my mind. Intriguing.

I display my talents and prep for another blow,

They always fall after.

(It never comes)

I repeat the show for my new owner.

(I.Lestrade)

Amused. Amazed. Taken seriously.

Going to Count?

This is truly odd, yet still intriguing.

Will need to ignore the simple banter.

Need to get back to Londinium.

 

**_Four._ **

New data.

What to do with this new data.

(I don't need an orange blanket.)

John.

Hmmm...

 

**_One Hundred Three_ ** **.**

Cough. Spit. Expel.

(Disgusting river water and mud.)

John!

My gaze follows one waving hand until it find another.

John.

John is safe.

_They_ could be moving faster.

(John needs care.)

Must keep Lestrade moving.

(Need to get across the river to John.)

Lestrade?

(He falls asleep _now_?)

 

**_Two Hundred Seventy-one_ ** **.**

Londinium.

(Always the same.)

Freedom.

(Slavery has changed me.)

Still, life is better now for it:

A flat, flatmate, and experiments.

(All thanks to that damnable Mycroft.)

I miss the bees.

But the chips!

(Feet take the steps two at a time in their excitement.)

Malt vinegar.

Salt.

_Bliss_.

(A noise. Flushed faces, mussed hair. How did I miss them?)

Maybe I’ll have to ignore food if it blinds me so.

(Anger flares. Why must they share _that_ here?)

Then they are alone.

Anger sputters, desperation replacing it.

John.

John smiles.

John _kisses_ him.

(System overload. Buffering...)

They sit.

They talk.

I can have a flatmate…

And… I can have more.

(How I want more!)

Another noise. Lestrade returns.

(The man must evolve past corner store beverages.)

_They_ kiss.

I watch.

I _want_ to join. But how? When?

(The slip of leather is mesmerizing.)

A hand.

Lestrade’s hand reaches and pulls me in.

(Pangs of carnal hunger seize me!)

They _look_ at me.

Lost.

I am lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Love, in all its forms. is always appreciated, here or on my [Tumblr](http://yourdykeinshiningarmor.tumblr.com/).


End file.
